The Prince
by Alexandria Malfoy
Summary: CH 4 UP! Throughout his childhood, Draco had always been known as the Prince. DG
1. Prologue

The Prince-Prologue

Throughout his childhood, Draco had always been known as "the prince".

"The prince of what?" he would then ask each time a family member referred to him as such. This response always prompted laughter from the nearest family member, who would then comment on how adorable and precocious he was. This, in turn, would make Draco scowl, and at the tender age of six, did not have the same effect as it did when he was, say, sixteen, only making his family laugh harder.

True, he was not royalty, but Malfoy protocol dictated that he be raised, and therefore, behave in a similar fashion. Frivolity was a rare occurrence for a young Draco; anytime he spent around other children was brief and done for the sole purpose of networking.

His parents, in contrast to whatever demeanour they may outwardly display, adored their only son with every fibre of their beings. They had moments when they were cold and inattentive, yes, but on the whole, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy treated their son as any other parent would treat their child. They doled out punishment when necessary and shielded him from the whole Death Eater business. In fact, Draco hadn't a clue as to why his father was always away, attending "special meetings", until he was arrested and taken to Azkaban Draco's fifth year.

When Draco received his letter from Hogwarts upon turning eleven, Draco's parents (and Draco, too) were overjoyed. While Lucius was just the tiniest bit upset that his son would not be attending Durmstrang, Narcissa drove a hard bargain and has swayed Lucius otherwise.

Draco stepped onto Platform 9 ¾ that first day ecstatic. He was confident in his Sorting into Slytherin (after all, _every_ Malfoy was a Slytherin) and knew that he would have no trouble rising through his class' ranks to the top. And as an added bonus, attending Hogwarts finally gave him the chance to become friends with children his age!

As he bade his parents good-bye, his father pulled him aside and handed Draco a thin, rectangular parcel. There was a tag attached to it, _To Draco Lucius Malfoy, may you apply these principles throughout your life_, inscribed on the tag's surface.

Upon reading the tag, Draco looked up into his father's eyes, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Read it. Know it," was all Lucius said in response, motioning for his son to board the train before returning to his wife's side.

_Read it. Know it. _

Draco kept repeating his father's words over and over as he tried to find an empty compartment on the train. He found one, eventually, and once he was situated, he tore open the green wrapping paper of the parcel to reveal a black, leather-bound book. Stamped onto its cover in gold script was "The Prince", with the author's name, Niccolò Machiavelli, stamped at the bottom.

_Read it. Know it. _

Keeping those words in mind, Draco opened the book.

Pressed between the cover and the first page of the book was a letter. There was no heavy vellum envelope encasing it, just the faded yellow of parchment. Unfolding it, Draco recognized his father's handwriting and began reading.

_My dear son,_

As of this moment, you are currently on your way to your first of seven years of higher education. As I did (and the many Malfoys before me), you will make connection vital to your well-being as you mature, in addition to you teachings. But, as all children do when they are faced with others their age, you will make enemies. Disregard any who fall under this classification; they are petty and beneath you.

You are, more than likely, curious as to why you were given a book. A book written by a Muggle no less! But do not be fooled by the author's lack of magical ancestry; he has written his manuscript based on the mistakes his kind have made. Although you are not an actual prince, you have been born and bred to behave like one; this book will only help you solidify your royal-like position during your Hogwarts years and the years to come, much like it did for me and the Malfoys before me.

Your mother thinks me barbaric for continuing this tradition. Each Malfoy patriarch giving his firstborn son (in this case, though, you are both my firstborn, and only son) a copy of Machiavelli's The Prince in hopes that he will take the lessons to heart. I continue this tradition because I have your best interests at heart, and feel that you will only benefit from reading The Prince. You, Draco, are a prince. Why else would we refer to you that way while you were growing up?

You are but eleven, though, Draco, and I do not expect you to fully comprehend the various topics discussed within the text. Your age aside, I have tremendous faith in you, son; you are a bright child and I know that you will understand your readings and make the right choices based on those readings.

Do not hesitate to contact me, though, if you do require clarification on what you will read. And as a reminder (and because your mother would not leave me alone until I mentioned it), your mother requests that you write to her at least once a week. I'd hate to witness that Howler that would be sent to you if you failed to do so.

Good luck this year, your first year, and all your years to come.

Make your mother and me proud, Draco.

Sincerely yours,

Lucius Gabriel Malfoy

Draco couldn't help but smile once he read his father's name, eyeing the Malfoy crest stamped in green wax underneath.

A new phrase now resounded itself in his head; his father's voice uttering '_Make your mother and me proud, Draco_'.

He had never had the chance to show his parents all that he was capable of before. Up until Hogwarts, there was never a need to.

Draco fingered the pages of the book in his hands, flipping through it before placing his father's letter to the side and turning to the first chapter.

He was genuinely excited; this book was the perfect way to make his parents proud.

**A/N-** For those who have read Machiavelli's _The Prince_, then you know that Machiavelli does not make ruling a nation sound like fluffy bunnies and rainbows. He tells you straight up that "it is better to be feared than loved" and proceeds to go into historical examples as to why it is better to be the former. My friends and family thought I was crazy for wanting to read his guide of my own volition, but my English teacher's awesome reaction when she found out more than made up for it.

As some of you may have guessed, I am basing this particular fic on the topics found in _The Prince_. I might end up grouping some ideas together, though, for some of the chapters are rather short. The first chapter, for example, is, I believe, four or five paragraphs (short paragraphs, three sentences) long. And as some of you who read A Study of the Mind (which is the literal definition for the word "psychology". Of course, I realize this** AFTER** the fact...) can attest, love interests are not seen very often. Such will be the case with Ginny. I'm only warning you now so I don't get any complaints later on down the road. But she **will** factor into Draco's life in this story, make no mistake of that.

Now, please be kind and review with some feedback. :D


	2. Chapter 1

The Prince-Chapter 1

_5 June 2001_

_Mr. Malfoy, _

_In accordance with Standard Wizarding laws, your personal Gringotts vault, as well as any properties entitled to you, are now available at your leisure. _

_Please keep in mind that although at twenty-one (21) you are well past legal Wizarding age, a great deal of your properties govern over either Muggle or Wizarding villages, and in some cases, a combination of the two. Therefore, only the strictest enforcement of these particular properties must be done if you do not wish to cause any problems. _

_Regarding your personal Gringotts account, at the time that you have received this letter, all monies within total four hundred million (400,000,000) Galleons; not including the properties you have recently been given control of. As for the main Malfoy family fault, all assets within have been frozen by the Ministry due to your parents' involvement with the Dark Lord. While it may be said that the war is over, and your family did provide useful information to capture other Death Eaters, the Ministry is in the process of checking all artefacts within the vault for any remnants of Dark magic. We, at the Ministry, understand that your parents' will stated that you would inherit everything upon their death, but we feel that these measures would be in not only your best interest, but in the entire Wizarding world's best interest. _

_You will, of course, be notified once the Ministry has done a thorough enough check of all items within your family vault. _

_We, at the Ministry, apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused you, and if you have any further inquiries regarding any of the previously discussed matters, do not hesitate to contact us. _

_Thank you for your time and patience, Mr. Malfoy. _

_Best regards, _

_Blaise Zabini_

_Department of Financial Services _

Draco crumpled up the letter in disgust.

"Dear god, when did Blaise become such a tool?" he asked to no one in particular.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

_Six months later_

"Master Malfoy, your visitor is here."

"Good. And right on time, too. Leave them in the atrium, Fizzy," Draco replied, his eyes never leaving the paperwork on the desk before him.

"Yes, Master," Fizzy stated, as the tiny elf was waved away.

Draco let his head drop once the elf was gone; the dead weight bobbing from side to side, ridding him of a crick in his neck.

He stood, raising his arms above his head, stretching, feeling his muscle fibres slowly rip in his back and abdomen.

Maybe he could do some laps in the pool after this meeting was over. He needed a way to relax.

Draco entered the atrium, noting that the woman he was supposed to be meeting with was currently studying a clump of calla lilies and narcissi; the white of the flowers matching the white of her blouse. His eyes roamed across the plane of her body – from the black heels she wore to the crimson waves spilling over her shoulders and onto her back.

_Crimson waves?_

"Ginny?"

The woman whipped her head to the side at the sound of Draco's voice, eventually turning around to face him.

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy. It is so lovely to see you again," Ginny said, smiling.

Draco inwardly cringed. Her smile looked forced. Of all the people his realtor had to recommend, it just _had_ to be her.

"Please, call me 'Draco'," he stated, walking toward the tea table in the centre of the room.

"Mr. Malfoy, I always use proper conduct when dealing with my clients. I'm only here to do my job, not become your next conquest."

_Ouch. One, Ginny. Zero, Draco. _

Ginny took her seat opposite him, pulling her bag into her lap. "Now, what exactly did you have in mind for your flat?" she asked, taking a sketchpad and pencil out of the bag.

"I want it to be completely different from the Manor and my other properties. Nothing too ornate; simple with a Slytherin colour scheme."

"Of course."

"Did my realtor give you any information regarding the flat?"

"Only the dimensions and the fact that it was previously owned by Ms. Pansy Parkinson before her properties were confiscated by the Ministry."

"Then you understand why someone such as yourself was hired."

"Yes, no one should have to suffer with that much pink and lace."

"Indeed."

Ginny spent the next five minutes jotting down notes and drawing rough sketches of designs.

They were the longest five minutes of Draco's life.

Her body posture was stiff and on the defensive, like that of a cobra poised to strike.

He knew she hated him; he was surprised that she even agreed to work with him. He was a complete and utter bastard to her back at school; she was a saint for dating him.

Draco was vaguely aware of how her sketchbook had made its way to his side of the table, but there it was, along with another surprise: Ginny was hovering over him, pointing out her ideas and explaining the layout of his new bedroom.

"So, Mr. Malfoy, what do you think?" she asked. He detected the slightest hint of excitement in her voice. It was rare for him to see or hear someone be so passionate about their job. He had to repress a smile.

She was looking at him in anticipation. Then it registered that she had asked him a question. Her close proximity made his mind akin to molasses in consistency. He had better answer, for her eyes flashed in irritation.

"Oh, yes; it's wonderful. When can you get started?"

"Never, Mr. Malfoy." Apparently, he had responded a bit later than her temper would allow. "Lest I forget that you have more important things to do than associate with a lowly, inferior Weasley." She snatched the book from the table, stuffing it into her bag before stalking out of the room.

Draco jumped out of his chair, taking advantage of his long legs to catch up with a furious Ginny.

He grabbed hold of her wrist, "Ginny, please don't leave. I really do appreciate your help. I wouldn't hire you if you weren't the best." He made an attempt at a smile.

She glanced down at the hand latched around her wrist, prying it away in disgust, staring at said wrist as though his touch marred the ivory glow of her skin.

She slowly lifted her head to his level, making eye contact with his slate-coloured orbs. "If you ever do something like that again, I will make sure that the Ministry is provided with some very useful information about the location of your parents and their friends."

Damn. He knew he shouldn't have trusted her with that.

"Don't think I have forgotten about our previous relations, Mr. Malfoy. The only reason why I am even working with you is your realtor is a good friend of mine." He watched the grace behind a movement as simple as tucking a crimson strand behind her ear. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Mr. Malfoy, I have an important meeting to get to."

And like so many other times previous, she was gone.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**A/N-** Thanks to Lady Laurelin, and my friend, Lisa, for beta-reading this chapter for me.

Also, since I forgot to mention it in the previous chapter, the first chapter of Machiavelli's _The Prince_ is a dedication to Lorenzo de Medici, whom the book was written specifically for. So, the prologue of my story is a dedication of sorts to Draco. Chapter One of both mine and Machiavelli's _The Prince_ deals with what type of principalities one can have; hereditary and mixed (acquired).

Please review!


	3. Chapter 2

The Prince- Chapter 2

_Summer before Draco's Seventh Year_

"You requested my family's presence, Master?"

Lucius knelt before Lord Voldemort, kissing the hem of his obsidian robes, before stepping back to stand beside his frightened wife and son.

"Yes, Lucius," Voldemort hissed. "I have a request for you."

"Anything, Master."

"I am seeking a new headquarters for our ever growing numbers. While my Muggle father's manor is useful, it is not as spacious as I would like it to be. Therefore, I want to use Malfoy Manor from now on."

"Ex-excuse me? But, Master, my family does not need another reason why the Ministry should wish to put the three of us into Azkaban. They are already performing an inquiry upon our house. They have started freezing our vaults. My Lord, I do not know if it would be _wise_ to move headquarters over to Malfoy Manor."

Voldemort rose out of his seat, his eyes going from a clear blue to a glowing garnet. "Do I sense derision to the cause? Do you and your pathetic family forget how forgiving I was toward young Draco? I would think that you would not want anything to happen to your only heir?"

Lucius shook his head quickly, "No, Master. I am merely asking you to reconsider your choice in a new location for our headquarters."

"Very well…for the time being. Go." He dismissed them with a wave of an opaque hand.

They began to file out, replacing their masks and hoods as they exited the room.

"Wait." The Malfoys turned at the sound of Voldemort's voice. "Draco, come here. Lucius and Narcissa, leave us."

Narcissa paled behind her mask. "Please, Lord, no! He is only a boy!" She reached out as if to grab Draco's sleeve before Voldemort began laughing.

"Do not worry your pretty head, Narcissa. I only wish to speak to the boy. I do not at all intend to harm a single silver hair on his head," he replied with a grin. Narcissa paled even further. "Now, Draco, come here."

Lucius strode out of the room, with Narcissa scuttling out not too long after.

Draco stared at the spot his parents had just vacated. He fearfully tore his gaze away and focused in on the malicious being before him.

"Take off your mask, Draco."

With shaking hands, Draco did the task commanded of him, revealing his deathly pallor.

Voldemort took all of this in, raising an eyebrow as he did so. "Do you fear me, Draco?"

Draco's eyes flicked from Voldemort to the carpeted floor beneath his pristine Cole Haan shoes.

"No, not at all."

"Come closer, Draco."

Draco's legs felt like tree roots; he was frozen, only working up the courage to move after Voldemort's eyes began to glow a deeper red.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"I have another task for you. Think of it as a way to redeem yourself after the abomination that was your first task."

"Thank you, my Lord. Thank you," Draco repeated profusely, bowing as he did so.

"Do not grovel, Draco. It does not become you," Voldemort spat at the young man in irritation. "Now, your latest task. Do you know who Ginny Weasley is?"

Draco's face contorted in disgust. "What about her, My Lord?"

"Do you know what happened to her during her very first year at Hogwarts?"

"The entire school knows, my Lord." Draco was steadily gaining his confidence back. Berating the Weasleys was like a safety net.

"Then I shall not go into the details of what happened to her. Although my old diary was destroyed, there is still a small part of me repressed deep within her mind. I feel that with the proper stimuli, this part of her mind could unlock, in turn giving her the potential to become the ultimate spy for our cause. Severus has done an adequate job thus far, but our little Ginny is rather _familiar_ with Potter."

"So, what do you want _me_ to do?" Draco asked, no longer addressing Voldemort as his superior, but rather as he might a fellow student.

If Voldemort was displeased by this, he showed no reaction. He simply said, "I want you to date Ginny Weasley."

"Are you fucking shitting me?" Draco had lost it. There was no way in hell that he was dating that, that _thing_; even if it meant the difference between life and death.

"No, Draco, I am not, as you so eloquently put it, 'shitting' you," Voldemort responded wryly.

First, he suggested that he date the Weasley girl, and now he has a sense of humour? Clearly, the Dark Lord was afflicted with something besides megalomania.

"But why me? Why her?" Draco asked indignantly.

"Are you deaf as well as completely incompetent?" Damn. Voldemort was on a roll today. "I have already informed you that I wish Ginny Weasley to join our ranks as a spy, considering my influence over her and the influence she has with Potter. If you feel you can't handle something as simple as _dating_, then maybe I should give your mission to someone more _adept_ in that field. Zabini, for instance." At the mention of Blaise's name, Voldemort's eyes flashed once again. Draco interpreted it as "Accept, or watch me kill your family before I slowly kill you."

Draco bowed his head in defeat. "I'll do it," he mumbled, cringing.

"I'm sorry; I'm afraid you'll have to properly enunciate when speaking in my presence," Voldemort jibed.

"I said, I'll do it," Draco repeated through gritted teeth.

"Excellent."

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_One hour later_

"Master, you have visitors," Fizzy squeaked as she entered Lucius's study.

"What? I'm not expecting any. Where did you leave them?"

"Well, you see, Master…" Fizzy was wringing her hands; she really didn't want the Master to know that she had lost control of the guests.

"Spit it out already!"

Before Fizzy could answer, Narcissa had burst into the study, out of breath.

"Lucius…they're here…"

"Who is here, Cissa?"

But Lucius could feel who was in his home. He opened the door to his study to see absolute chaos.

There were Death Eaters, everywhere, running rampant throughout his home.

He turned to Narcissa, "Where's Draco?"

They both looked down the corridor to see their son being pushed out of his room by Fenrir Greyback, who slammed the door in Draco's face before he even had a chance to get up from the floor.

"What the hell is going on here?" Lucius yelled, irate over the destruction.

"I'm so glad you asked, Lucius," a smooth voice replied, hissing ever so slightly.

Lucius paled, sweat beads forming at his temples and hairline. He knew to whom that voice belonged.

Voldemort grinned. "You see, Lucius, I truly did think about what you had asked of me. After all, you are my most humble of servants, but as you can see, I… how shall I put this… decided it would be best to _deny_ your request."

All Lucius could do was leave his mouth open in shock.

"Lucius, please close your mouth. Looking like a fish does not suit you," the Dark Lord admonished.

Lucius promptly shut his mouth – a tic began to appear along his jaw line.

"Very well. Can my family at least stay in our own rooms?"

"Of course. It would not do to take advantage of such gracious hosts."

Lucius bowed his head. "Thank you, my Lord."

Voldemort looked past Lucius to Draco and grinned once more.

"Draco, have you informed your parents of your next mission?"

Narcissa turned to her son, beaming, "You received another mission? How wonderful!"

"Well, Draco, what is it?" Lucius asked in clipped tones.

"I am to get Ginny Weasley to join our ranks," Draco replied, already anticipating his father's response.

"And how do you expect to do that?"

"By dating her?" It wasn't intended to be a question, but Draco's accompanying cringe changed the inflection.

The tic in Lucius's jaw became even more pronounced.

"Are you displeased with young Draco's latest mission?" Voldemort asked, amusement evident in his voice. Torturing the Malfoys might become his new favourite past-time.

"No, my Lord, not at all," Lucius replied through gritted teeth.

"That's what I thought."

* * *

**A/N- **Thanks to all who reviewed!


	4. Chapter 3

The Prince - Chapter 3

Two weeks.

It had been two whole weeks since he had heard from Ginny last.

This latest update had come in the form of an owl informing him of when she wanted to begin working on his new flat.

That had been Friday.

It was now Monday and, in just over an hour, he was expected to be outside of his compound to meet her.

He really shouldn't be this nervous. It's been four years, after all. He's moved on; found women more aesthetically pleasing that Ginevra Weasley. Yet, her spitefulness and malice toward him only rekindled memories that he _really_ should not be thinking about.

He needed to get out more.

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He was five minutes late.

If there was one thing Ginevra Weasley could not abide by, it was tardiness.

She stood outside of his compound clad in a pair of black skinny jeans, black suede boots, and a blood red, woollen, empire waist coat. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, but the mid-December winds were currently whipping stray strands into a frenzy.

She hiked her bag higher up on her shoulder before wrapping her fringed scarf tighter around her neck.

Didn't he realize how fucking cold it was outside?

Whenever his pasty arse decided to grace her with its presence, she was going to give him a right good piece of her mind.

She squinted at a figure about two metres to her right. Finally. Little blond bastard decided to show up.

Draco's cheeks were flushed when he reached Ginny. He had been walking at a swift pace from Diagon Alley to the compound where Pansy's old flat was, about five blocks away.

He had sucked in a breath, in hopes of speaking, but Ginny cut him off. "Can I assume that you are going to be late from now on? I come here prepared to work, yet when I get here, my employer is nowhere to be found. Please, tell me what was so important that you couldn't take time out of your so-called 'busy schedule' to be on time for my appointment?"

Draco's eyes had turned to slate as Ginny finished her question, complete with air-quotes to punctuate her irritation towards him. He was a Malfoy. He did not have to deal with the likes of her.

"Why should I answer to someone like you? You don't even deserve to reside on the underside of my shoes. Why don't you just --" But Ginny had cut him off by shoving her portfolio into his chest.

"Fuck you, Malfoy. If I'm so beneath you, then you can just decorate your flat by yourself. Have fun!" And with a jaunty salute, Ginny turned and started walking down the street.

Draco opened the portfolio to Ginny's sketches. Her writing looked like cuneiform and absolutely impossible to decipher. Damn it. Leave it to her to make her work only intelligible to her. He needed her.

He started running down the street after her, calling out her name. "Ginny! Ginny! Ginny, wait!"

She stopped only after his sixth call, slowly turning around to face him. "Yes?"

"Look. I'm sorry for being late. It won't happen again," he ground out, trying not to become aggravated at the smirk that was growing on her lips.

"Make sure that it doesn't, Malfoy. I do not appreciate it when my clients are late," she stated with a glare.

"Right. Here's your portfolio," he replied, handing her back the leather folder.

Like that of their last meeting, the tension was palpable. Ginny's eyes were fixated on a point in front of her, determined to prevent her eyes from wandering over to Draco. He glanced at her every now and then as they walked back to his compound; attempting to gauge her emotions. She seemed to be calming down now, but with Ginny, it could be hit or miss.

They quickly made the ascent up the stone stairs, pausing as Draco opened the door to allow their entrance. The trip up the flight of stairs to the flat proceeded in the same manner, only this time Draco fumbled as he tried to remember the combination of spells it took to unlock the wards.

Once inside, Ginny walked to the middle of the now empty flat and sat down on the floor, opening her folder on the floor in front of her.

Draco took off his cloak and placed it on the floor next to her before sitting cross-legged on it.

He watched as Ginny sifted through papers, a need to fill the silence growing within him.

"So, Ginny, what made you choose a career in interior design?"

"I've always loved drawing and patterns. That, coupled with how much I argued with McGonagall over the layout of Gryffindor Tower, led me to where I am today," she uttered, her eyes never leaving the folder or its contents.

Draco did not seem to notice. "I, for one, thought you would've done something more along the lines of painting. Your work is rather phenomenal," he replied, glancing down at her to see her reaction.

Ginny had the grace to blush at Draco's last comment; the pink flush spreading down her cheeks to her neck (and further, as Draco recalled…). "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco turned his attention to the folder, noticing the sketches, fabric swatches and paint samples scattered across its surface.

Ginny now turned to him, pulling out specific pages to illustrate her ideas. "For the entire flat, the colour-scheme will be Slytherin House colours, as you dictated. While your former House's décor is rather, well, gothic, in nature, this flat will be far from it. Really, the only place that will resemble it will be your study. Do you have any questions?"

"So my entire flat will feature only green, silver, and black?"

"I did have other colours in mind, just to not make it seem so monotonous or monochromatic, but I was unsure as to whether you would approve or not."

"What else did you have in mind?"

Ginny flashed Draco an impish grin, getting up to stand. "Come with me."

Draco had to admit that her expression had roused his interest, but at the same time it scared him. He remembered what that grin accompanied.

"This flat has five rooms and three bathrooms, including the Master Suite Pansy created," Ginny began, turning her head to make sure that Draco was following her. She stopped just inside the doorway of a bedroom. "This is where I was planning on having your study located. I know that you specified Slytherin colours, and all, but I really couldn't help myself. Anyways, with your study we have one of two options: decorate in the stereotypical dark, brooding, 'manly' fashion, or you can do something that's somewhat fun."

"And what exactly is your definition of fun?" Draco asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, from my understanding, you're a pretty big Quidditch fan, right?"

_Why is she even asking me that? I thought that fact was blatantly obvious considering my position as Slytherin House Seeker and Captain_, Draco thought, still perplexed.

"Yeah, but what does that have to do with my study?"

"I was thinking that you could indulge the kid in you a bit and make it a Quidditch-themed room. And before you even wrinkle your nose at the idea, just trust me; it would be done in a mature manner – nothing cutsey or kitsch. I've seen it done before and I've done a man's study in a similar fashion, so I know what I'm doing."

"How would it be done?"

Ginny pulled out two sheets of sketch paper; fabric swatches and paint samples attached to each.

Draco glanced at the sheets Ginny proceeded to hand over to him, noticing that the first revolved around the Slytherin House team the years that he attended Hogwarts, while the other was designed in regards to his favourite team, the Falmouth Falcons.

The Slytherin room was composed of dark mahogany, black leather and his former House's colours. Lining a side wall was a large floor-to-ceiling bookshelf; at its centre a glass display case holding Draco's Quidditch uniform and his old Nimbus 2001 – the name, _Malfoy_, in large block letters stamped on the robe. The bookcase's columns were serpents winding up to the top. The walls were forest green, while all the accessories, from the lamps to the paperweights, were silver.

Draco was in love.

"This is amazing," Draco uttered.

He flicked his gaze over to Ginny, noticing her smirk and smug expression.

"Look at the next one," she stated, pointing a finger at the papers in his hands.

The Falcons room was modelled in a similar fashion to that of the Slytherin House team design, except that instead of green and silver, the colours were dark grey and white, and Draco's uniform was now replaced with – "You can get me a jersey with my name on it?!" Draco exclaimed, snapping his head up to meet Ginny's gaze. He glanced down at the sketch again, "_And_ a quaffle signed by the entire team?! Even I am unable to get anything from the team. Could you really make that happen?"

"Of course," Ginny replied with ease. "Knowing that Harry Potter is absolutely arse over teakettle for me does have its advantages."

"That is incredibly evil of you," Draco said with a mixture of awe and disgust.

Ginny waved a hand at him. "Oh, please. Like you wouldn't take advantage of that if you were me."

Draco considered this for a moment. "Too true. It's the mark of a good Slytherin."

"Are you calling me a Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy? Why, that might be the closest thing to a compliment I'll ever receive from you!" Ginny exclaimed, feigning joy.

"I do believe your job description does not include sarcasm."

"Only when I have to work with you, Mr. Malfoy," Ginny replied, giving Draco a beatific grin.

Draco rolled his eyes, trying to conceal the smile that was threatening to make an appearance on his face. "Just do your job, Ginny."

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In the end, Ginny convinced Draco to decorate his flat in colours that were decidedly _not_ Slytherin in nature – blues, brown, white, and even some reds.

The only room that fit his initial description was the Master Suite. When Ginny suggested crimson and gold as a joke, Draco put his foot down, causing only the slightest bit of cowering on Ginny's part.

Draco also succumbed to the prospect of having a Falmouth Falcons jersey with his name on it, as well as a quaffle signed by the entire team; vanity be damned. There were just some things that he was unable to owning, even with his wealth and somewhat cleared name. Those articles just happened to be on that particular list.

Draco was also loathe to admitting that he enjoyed his time with Ginny. He could tell that she was slowly getting accustomed to be around him again; their banter toward the end of the day was evidence of that.

Maybe with a little cajoling she would be up for meeting him outside of their working environment.

Draco stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes widened and he shook his head to rid himself of such thoughts; much to the amusement of passerbys on the street.

_She would pound me into a bloody pulp if I even hinted at such an idea_, Draco thought as he continued walking. _Maybe I should wait and see what happens._

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**A/N- **As always, thanks to Lady Laurelin for the beta, and Lisa for oodles of encouragement.


	5. Chapter 4

The Prince - Chapter 4

_Draco's Seventh Year, Ginny's Sixth_

"Draco, I really don't know if I should go with you."

"Don't worry at all, Ginny. You-Know-Who is on the continent searching for something or other, and my parents have received permission to clear out the Manor for the Christmas holidays. Just trust me."

"But what about my parents and the rest of my family?"

"Just tell them that you're going to Luna's for the hols, and Longbottom's staying with the two of you as well. Which is mostly true, but you're only spending about three days with Luna."

"Promise that nothing bad will happen to me?"

"I promise that nothing bad will ever happen to you as long as you're with me."

To seal the deal, Draco took Ginny's hand into his own, kissing the top of it, before wrapping her in a hug.

"I would never let anything bad happen to you, Ginny. Never."

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_Malfoy Manor was not always the grandiose spectacle that it is today. _

_When the Mal Foi clan migrated over from Gaul (modern-day France, Italy, and Belgium) in the late eighth century to what is now Wiltshire, the thirty member tribe was initially scattered across what became the overall property. Their leader, Orion Mal Foi, had settled on the part of the property that now holds the manor-house. _

_Through trade, both wizarding and Muggle, legal and illegal, the Mal Fois made their fortune, eventually changing their name to Malfoy sometime during the thirteenth century. It was also around this time that the manor-house began its transformation into the manor-house that is seen today. _

_Up until the mid-eleventh century, the Mal Fois were still scattered across their land, until Hyperion Mal Foi's son, Lucien, began construction on a home big enough for the entire family. What was at first a stone castle became a modern, marble structure upon Orion Malfoy's (1826-1902) ascension to the Head of House. _

- From _The History of the Malfoys, Third Edition_

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"Ginny, is that you?"

Ginny walked up to stand behind Draco at his desk and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, leaning down to plant a kiss on top of his head.

Draco's gaze travelled upward to see a smiling Ginny.

"Have you heard from your parents at all?" Draco asked with concern.

"I just got an owl from Mum. She sounded rather happy that I was spending the hols with Luna, just as long as I write to her around three times a week. I think she's pleased with the fact that I'm not begging her to stay with her and Dad," Ginny finished, mentally replacing "her and Dad" with "the Order".

"Excellent," Draco replied with a smile. "Are you packed?"

Ginny pulled her trunk out of her robe pocket, using an _Engorgio_ spell to return the trunk to its original size. "It's all here."

"Okay. As soon as the clock strikes one, we'll leave." Draco glanced at the grandfather clock on the opposite wall. "That gives us about an hour. Can you think of anything that we could do fill in that time?" Draco asked, smirking.

Ginny immediately relinquished her hold on Draco to sprint across the room.

"Gin, as your Head Boy, I highly suggest that you not run away, lest you enjoy being punished."

Ginny turned around to see Draco stalking toward her, smirking as though he were a cat who finally caught his mouse.

"There's no use running, Ginny. I always get what I want," Draco murmured, bringing his lips down upon Ginny's.

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"It is so good to see you home, Master Draco!"

Draco and Ginny were immediately assaulted by a squealing Fizzy, who had decided to attach herself to Draco's left leg.

Draco looked down at the small elf, using his free hand to give her a pat on the head. "It's good to see you, too, Fizzy," he replied with a chuckle.

Fizzy let go of her death grip on Draco's leg to look at both him and Ginny with orbous blue eyes. She took in the sight of Ginny then glanced down to see Draco and Ginny's clasped hands.

"Master Draco, who is the young Miss with you?" she asked, her forehead creased in confusion.

"This is my girlfriend, Ginny. She will be staying with us for most of the Christmas hols. I want you to treat her exactly the same way that you treat me. Is that understood, Fizzy?"

The elf nodded, her large ears flopping violently. "Yes, Master Draco."

"Are my Mother and Father home?"

"Master Malfoy is not here right now," Fizzy replied hesitantly, knowing exactly where Lucius was. "But Mistress Malfoy is home, sitting in the atrium. Should Fizzy escort Master Draco and Miss Ginny to Mistress Malfoy?"

"No, Fizzy, that won't be necessary. If you could just take our bags for us, that would be great. Make sure that Ginny's room is right next to mine."

Fizzy bowed in understanding, snapping her fingers, leaving Draco and Ginny alone, their trunks already with her.

Draco turned to Ginny with a smile, "Read to meet Mother?"

Ginny replied with a nervous grin, "As ready as I'll ever be."

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Narcissa stood in the atrium, attending to a clump of white narcissi that were being particularly troublesome.

"Mother?"

She turned at the sound of her son's voice to see him, smiling, hand entwined with that of a redheaded girl only a head shorter than him.

"Draco!" she cried out, running to wrap her son in a warm embrace. "Oh, I've been so worried about you. How is school?" she asked, letting go and leading the pair to a tea table near the narcissi.

"School is just fine, Mother."

"Are you keeping up with your grades? I heard that those awful Carrows have actually been given teaching jobs there." Narcissa wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I am appalled that Severus would do something so crass."

"I have been keeping up with my school work, and I do believe that Professor Snape had other outside influences when choosing the Carrows," Draco replied, giving a significant look to his mother.

"Oh," Narcissa squeaked, understanding the implied message. Her eyes flitted around the room, trying to think of a different topic of conversation before her grey orbs alighted on Ginny.

"Draco, please introduce me to the lovely young lady by your side."

Ginny blushed under Narcissa's inquisitive gaze.

"This is Ginny Weasley, Mother. Ginny, this is my mother, Narcissa Malfoy," Draco stated, motioning between the two women.

"Ah, yes, I've heard so much about you. I've never seen my son happier," Narcissa said with a smile directed toward Ginny.

"As have I, Mrs. Malfoy. Thank you so much for allowing me to stay in your lovely home."

Narcissa waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, it's no trouble at all, dear. And please, call me Narcissa."

Ginny inclined her head slightly. "Of course…Narcissa," she replied, rolling Narcissa's name off of her tongue as though she was savouring the taste and feel of it like the biscuit on her plate.

"I assume that Draco has told you about our family's annual Christmas ball?" Narcissa asked, bringing her tea cup to her lips for a sip.

Ginny glared at a visibly sheepish Draco. "No, he did not tell me about your ball."

"I insist that you attend with Draco. It's one of, if not _the,_ most talked about events of the season," Narcissa stated with familiar cold pride that Ginny had come to associate with the Malfoys.

"I would love to attend, Narcissa, but I am afraid that I did not pack any dress robes. I would have, had I'd known."

Narcissa waved her hand again. "That can be taken care of, dear."

"Are you sure? I don't want to take advantage of you or your kindness."

"It's no trouble at all," Narcissa replied with a smile. She glanced down at her diamond-rimmed wristwatch. "I'm afraid I must leave you two now. If you wish to take a tour of the atrium or the Manor as a whole, Ginny, you are more than welcome to. If you'll excuse me," she finished, standing and exiting the atrium.

Draco watched his mother leave, standing once she was out of sight. He pulled Ginny's chair out for her, extending a hand to lead her around the atrium.

"Does your mother care for all of the plants here?"

"For the most part. The house elves take care of them when she's on vacation, but other than that, the atrium is all her handiwork. My mother considers gardening a form of therapy."

Ginny paused as she spotted a cluster of tiger lilies and cornflower orchids.

"Draco," she turned to face him, "do you think I can set up my painting supplies in here?"

"I'll have to ask Mother about it, but I don't see why she would say no."

Ginny gave Draco a quick peck on the cheek. "Thank you."

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_The Next Day_

"Rise and shine, Ginny. We have a very busy day ahead of us," Narcissa announced, throwing open the curtains in Ginny's room.

Ginny rolled over to face the window, half-squinting, half-glaring at Narcissa. The sun was a little too bright, in her opinion, and as Ginny turned to glance at the clock on the nightstand, she couldn't help but groan.

_Eight o'clock in the morning. _

If it weren't for the fact that she was Draco's mother, Narcissa would've been dead by now.

Said mentioned subject of Ginny's ire turned to face the upset young woman, frowning when she realized that her son's girlfriend was _not_ a morning person.

"Ginny, I know you may be upset with me right now, but if we're to find you a dress for the Christmas ball, then we need to start early. I'll have you know that I have made appointments with several shops and some of my own personal couturiers."

Ginny groaned again, rolling over, pulling the comforter over her head as she did so.

Narcissa glared at the defiant bundle of blankets, simultaneously placing her hands on her hips and clucking her tongue.

In five swift strides, she was by Ginny's bed, yanking off the crimson covers with a rather elegant flourish.

Ginny screeched at the sudden change in temperature, curling into a foetal position in hope of some warmth.

Narcissa sighed in exasperation. "Fine. Stay under your covers." Narcissa turned away to leave the room, fed up with Ginny, before stopping dead in her tracks, a truly devious smirk blossoming on her face. "Since it's blatantly obvious that you are uninterested in attending the ball, then I guess Draco can just find another date. I hear Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis are available. Or maybe Pansy Parkinson. Merlin knows that girl is still in love with Draco."

Narcissa had to cover her mouth to stifle a giggle as Ginny shot straight up in bed, wide-eyed and slightly frazzled.

Ginny's feet tentatively touched the cold hardwood floor beneath her bed, their owner shivering as she acclimated herself.

Safe with the knowledge that Ginny was (slowly) getting out of bed, Narcissa began to make her way towards the door, only to be stopped by Ginny planting herself directly in Narcissa's path.

"It will be a cold day in hell before some cow like Pansy Parkinson takes _my_ boyfriend anywhere."

Narcissa stared at Ginny, eyes wide and devoid of emotion. "I have no idea what you are talking about, dear."

Ginny glared at Narcissa, realization slowly dawning in her sleep-addled mind. "That was evil."

The blonde woman standing in front of Ginny covered her mouth with a hand, allowing only a small giggle to escape.

"Well, if you weren't being so uncooperative, then I would not have had to resort to such extreme measures."

Ginny sighed in annoyance. "Fine. Give me twenty minutes."

"Meet me in the dining room when you're done," Narcissa sang out, waggling her fingers as she walked out.

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Ginny sighed for what seemed like the millionth time that day as Narcissa dragged her to different shops in search of the perfect dress.

When Narcissa deemed the whole of England completely unsatisfactory when it came to a dress, she Side-Along Apparated Ginny to Paris' version of Diagon Alley, Rue de Sorcier. As soon as their feet hit the ground, Narcissa brought Ginny to her favourite shop – a small boutique with a gold plaque next to its unobtrusive door, signifying its importance and social status.

Narcissa gave the door two sharp knocks before a raven-haired woman with blunt, French bangs and mid-back length hair answered, quickly ushering Narcissa and Ginny inside.

The woman turned to Narcissa with a smile, guiding her two customers over to a tea table in front of a covered platform and three angled mirrors.

"How can I help you today, Narcissa?" the dark-haired woman asked with the slightest of French accents.

"I'm in need of a dress for my son's girlfriend, Ginny," Narcissa responded, motioning to Ginny.

The French woman extended a hand to Ginny. "Adrienne Clemenceau, at your service," the woman replied once Ginny shook her hand.

"I thought that your expertise regarding dresses and the like would most benefit Ginny," Narcissa stated as Adrienne turned to face her.

"Occasion?"

"My family's annual Christmas ball."

"Ah, but of course."

Adrienne flicked her gaze over to Ginny, quickly taking in her features.

"Stand," Adrienne commanded with a flick of the wrist.

Ginny shot up out of her seat, her eyes darting around in nervous anticipation.

Adrienne circled around Ginny several times, taking measurements with a tape measure hanging around her neck.

Satisfied, Adrienne disappeared behind a maroon-coloured curtain, coming back out with five different dresses on a clothing rack.

She pulled a teal, empire-waisted, silk and chiffon sheath, handing it over to Ginny. "Try this on."

"Where?"

Adrienne motioned to a black curtain next to the maroon one, watching as Ginny rushed through it.

Ginny came back out about five minutes later, going to the platform to stand. Adrienne had Ginny turn around in the dress a couple of times before shaking her head and sending her back to the black curtain with another dress.

It wasn't until the fifth dress that Adrienne jumped out of her seat in excitement.

"C'est parfait!"

Ginny lifted up the emerald green skirt. "Do you really think so?"

"Oh, Ginny, dear, you look wonderful!" Narcissa exclaimed with a smile.

Ginny turned to look at her reflection in the three mirrors.

The dress really was perfect.

It was sleeveless; two green wide muslin straps covered her shoulders and extended to about five inches past her collarbone. The bodice cut straight across Ginny's chest, stopping right above her hips. The skirt flared out slightly, trailing out behind her a bit. It flowed as she moved, the muslin allowing air to seep through so the dress breathed with each movement. The design was simple, but the rich emerald of the fabric complimented Ginny's hair and complexion perfectly.

Ginny twirled around a bit more before stepping off of the platform.

Narcissa rose out of her seat and walked over to Ginny, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Is this the one you want, Ginny?"

"This dress is lovely, but again, are you sure you don't mind buying this for me?"

"Of course I don't mind!" Narcissa turned to Adrienne. "We'll take it."

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**A/N- **Much love to my betas, Lady Laurelin and ginnygie. Love to Lisa for her support. Also, Ginny's dress is modeled after a Versace design. Thanks for reading!


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